


Glide Me Towards You

by GotTheSilver



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Getting Together, Lost and Lonely Old Men, M/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:09:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26109970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: “The thing is,” Tony says, once he’s taken another sip of wine. “I don’t know if I can be friends with you.”“Oh,” Steve says, this broken sound that Tony doesn’t think he’s ever heard come out of Steve’s mouth before. “I can—I’ll—”“Because,” Tony interrupts in a rush before Steve can finish. “I’d want more from you. I’d want you. All of you. And I know you’re not interested, I get that, but—”“Why would you think that I’m not interested?”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 56
Kudos: 355





	Glide Me Towards You

**Author's Note:**

> because I'm a sucker for writing canon divergent post endgame fic, and stella gives really good prompts on the pots server.
> 
> title stolen from pearl jam - oceans

There’s a rap at the shutters next to the wide open door Tony has at the back of the beach house and he frowns, glancing at the time. It’s not late, but he’s not expecting anyone given that no one actually knows he’s here.

Whatever the time, when Tony walks over to the door and peers out, he doesn’t expect to see Steve standing there with a bottle of wine in his hands and a nervous look on his face.

“Hi,” Steve says, breaking the awkward silence.

“What are you doing here?”

“You—” Steve cuts himself off and frowns. “Tony, you’ve been watching me jog down the beach every morning.”

Well. Fuck. “That’s—how do you know that?”

“I wasn’t sure at first, but you were there every morning, and I just—I knew,” Steve says with a shrug. “Look, I can go if you really want me to, but I—it seemed like an opportunity.”

Tony unconsciously runs his left hand along the scars he still has on his right arm from the gauntlet, and notices the way Steve’s eyes follow his movements. “I knew you were next door,” he says quietly. “I just—I didn’t know what to say to you.”

“I can understand that,” Steve says. “I didn’t know you’d be here, if that helps. When I saw you on the balcony I thought—” he pauses and shakes his head. “It’s stupid.”

“What?” Tony asks, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What did you think?”

“I thought maybe it was a sign from Natasha. That maybe, wherever she is, she was telling us to sort our shit out,” Steve shrugs, a self conscious smile on his face. “I told you it was stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” Tony says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “You should—” he steps back and gestures extravagantly with a smile. “Come in.”

*

Tony’s not sure what the protocol is for having someone who you could’ve fallen in love with sitting in your vacation beach house in a pair of black shorts and a loose salmon coloured t-shirt, but he’d like a guide for it right about now, thanks.

Steve looks _good_ , and Tony could kind of tell that from watching him running all shirtless and sunkissed on the beach in the mornings over the past week, but having him in his space is—well, he’s glad for the excuse of escaping into the kitchen to pull together some food. Which, for Tony, involves opening a couple of bags of chips and pouring them into bowls before grabbing some dip from the fridge and shoving it all on a tray.

Taking it back into the lounge, Tony notices Steve’s found some glasses and is pouring the wine he brought into them, and he’s struck by how painfully domestic it feels. It’s like a painful flashback to how his life had been until recently. He _tried_. He really did. It just fell short, and now Tony’s left hiding in a beach house trying to piece himself back together.

“Here,” he says as he puts the tray down on the coffee table. “It’s not much, but there’s more in the kitchen if you get hungry.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, taking a seat on the couch. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You brought the wine, so figured I should provide something,” Tony says, taking the glass Steve hands him. “And I don’t mean to sound so much like a book club member, fuck.”

“Know a lot about book clubs, do you?”

“More than I’d like to,” Tony says, eyeing the space on the couch before biting the bullet and joining Steve. “Uh, Pepper, she—there were some friends she had and they—” Tony stops talking and takes a sip of the wine. “This is good.”

“Elegant change of subject,” Steve says. He’s got his gaze fixed on Tony like he’s searching for something, and Tony only just resists squirming under it. “How are you?” Steve asks. “Really?”

“We’re friends now?” Tony asks, harsher than he meant to. “Fuck, I didn’t—”

“I’d like to be,” Steve says, as Tony fumbles for his words.

Tony turns away from Steve’s searching eyes, fixing his own gaze on the ugly macrame hanging from a nail in the wall opposite him as a form of distraction, but all it really does is make him feel slightly nauseous. “I don’t want to be an asshole,” Tony says, looking back at Steve. “But you—were we ever friends?”

“I thought we were,” Steve says, a slightly sad smile crossing his face. “But I can understand why you’d ask that. All I can do is say I’m sorry,” he continues. “And I truly am, Tony. You have no idea how glad I am you survived so I could say that, so that we could get a shot at mending this.”

Tony finishes the wine in his glass and pours another, stuck somewhere between wanting the dutch courage to say what he wants to say and not wanting to risk being a mess in front of Steve. “The thing is,” Tony says, once he’s taken another sip of wine. “I don’t know if I can be friends with you.”

“Oh,” Steve says, this broken sound that Tony doesn’t think he’s ever heard come out of Steve’s mouth before. “I can—I’ll—”

“Because,” Tony interrupts in a rush before Steve can finish. “I’d want more from you. I’d want you. All of you. And I know you’re not interested, I get that, but—”

“Why would you think that I’m not interested?”

Tony lets out a short laugh as he puts his glass on the table. “Even if you were, you could do a lot better than a broken down old man.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Steve says, draining the wine from his own glass before putting it down. He grabs Tony’s hands, squeezing once before letting go. “Tony—”

“We don’t have to drag this out,” Tony says, waving a hand in the air. “Yes, my fifty four year old ass still has a crush,” he says with a self deprecating laugh. “It’s pathetic.”

“It’s not.”

“It is when he doesn’t want you,” Tony says, finding it hard to get the words out. Rubbing a hand over his face, Tony shakes his head and sighs. “I’ve embarrassed myself enough, I think you should go.”

“Can I do something before you ask me that again?”

Tony drops his hand to his lap and shrugs. “Sure,” he says. For a moment, all Tony is aware of is the sound of the waves outside lapping at the shore, the scent of the sea air floating through the still open door, but then—.

Then Steve’s mouth is on his, and his mind shorts out.

Steve’s lips are firm against his, and it's over before Tony can fully comprehend that Steve is kissing him. When he opens his eyes, Steve is staring at him with flushed cheeks, his eyes wide like he’s not entirely sure what he just did was the right choice, and Tony—.

Tony leans in and kisses him first this time.

It quickly turns dirty, Steve’s tongue slipping in his mouth, and Tony falls into it. He never thought he’d get this, never thought for one second that Steve would return his feelings, and Tony’s a little scared that when he breaks the kiss, this is going to end. He hates how much he doesn’t want this to end.

When Tony finally needs to catch his breath, he pulls away, and watches as Steve’s face breaks into a smile.

“Do you still want me to leave?” Steve asks as he looks at Tony, his smile turning almost smug.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Tony says.

“I mean, I can, if you want, all you’ve got to do is say so.”

Tony rolls his eyes and picks up his wine glass. “Stay. Asshole,” he says as he slumps back against the couch, his knee knocking against Steve’s thigh. “We can watch a movie.”

“Whatever you want,” Steve says, grabbing a bowl of chips and a tub of dip from the tray and leaning back, his shoulder brushing against Tony’s arm as he settles in.

*

The next morning Tony goes out on the balcony and watches Steve jogging down the beach like he has done every morning since he first spotted him. This time, instead of hiding behind the plant in the corner, he stands in the middle of the balcony, hand wrapped around a mug of coffee, and waves back when Steve waves at him.

It should be embarrassing, Tony thinks, the way his stomach feels like the cliche of butterflies when Steve turns up at his door after his run, but when Steve takes his hand as they walk down to the beach, Tony can’t bring himself to care. He thinks maybe he’s earnt a little goofiness.

Still, there’s a question on his mind that’s making him feel like a teenager, which he hates, but it’s nagging at him to the point where he needs an answer if he and Steve are going to do whatever it is they're doing. Tony’s not even sure he knows what they’re doing, if maybe one kiss is too soon to start putting labels and definitions on things.

His overactive mind has got Tony feeling restless on the towel he’s sprawled out on, Steve half asleep next to him under the hot sun, and he sighs. “Steve?”

There’s an answering hum from Steve as he tilts his head in Tony’s direction, and Tony takes that as a response.

“Is this—I mean—” Tony shifts onto his side and props his head up on his hand as he tries to find the words. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise and he turns away from Tony, the sunglasses on his face meaning Tony’s left unable to get a read on him. “I always liked you, Tony. Even when I thought I didn’t.”

“But you, uh. We kissed, and that—”

“I wanted to do that,” Steve says. “Still do.”

Tony sighs, his free hand twisting in the beach towel, fingers pressing into the soft sand below them. “For how long?” he asks quietly.

“Tony—”

“I’m a post divorce insecure mess, surprise,” Tony says as Steve pushes himself up and sits on the towel with crossed legs. “You don’t have to—” Tony breaks off, rolling onto his back again, and waving a hand in the air. “It’s fine.”

Steve shoves his sunglasses up into his hair, his brow furrowed. “No, I—” Steve pauses, like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. “It was while you were in space, I think. When I didn’t know if you were alive, and I realised I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. Even when we were apart I at least knew you were alive. But then when I saw you with Pepper, I couldn’t say anything, no matter what I was feeling.”

“So when my marriage fell apart you saw your chance?”

“Tony, no. I wanted you to be happy, however that came about. If it didn’t involve me, I would’ve dealt with it. I did deal with it, for a long time.”

Tony tilts his head and looks at Steve, sees how he’s slightly hunched over, the sun turning his hair golden, and his gaze fixed on the sand. “You did, didn’t you?” Tony suddenly realises. “And you never would’ve said a word about it.”

“Yeah. But then I saw you hiding behind a plant and realised that maybe with everything going on, you weren’t happy any longer.”

“Okay, we don’t have to bring up my stealth skills,” Tony says, closing his eyes and tilting his head back up to the sky.

“Skills. Sure.”

“I swear to god, Rogers—” is all Tony manages to get out before Steve’s kissing him, and he smiles into it, reaching up to tangle his hands in Steve’s hair. It’s an awkward angle, but he can taste the mango that Steve was eating earlier, the slight salt on his lips from his dips in the ocean, and it’s so goddamn close to perfect.

*

That evening they settle in at Tony’s house, Steve only going back to his to grab some food and clothes. It’s turning into a cool night as the sun goes down, and Steve’s poking at some fish on the grill while Tony sits back on an Adirondack chair, his feet resting in the sand as he drinks a margarita.

“How’s it looking?” he asks, digging his toes into the sand, his glass resting against his thighs.

“Almost done,” Steve says. “I think.”

“That does not give me faith in your grilling skills,” Tony says. “I don’t know why I’m letting you cook.”

“This isn’t cooking,” Steve says, shooting a look over his shoulder. “It’s grilling. There’s a difference.”

“God, I hope so,” Tony says, sticking his tongue out at Steve when he rolls his eyes.

Turns out, Steve can grill fish successfully, and Tony takes back his judgement by eating as much of it as he can. When they’re done, Steve insists on cleaning up and Tony lets him, settling into his chair on the beach and listening to the waves crash down on the shore while he does a little work on his tablet. He looks up when Steve drapes a blanket over his shoulders.

“Work?” Steve asks as he sits in the chair next to Tony.

“Inventions wait for no vacation,” Tony says, putting his tablet down on the small rickety table by his side. “What’s with the blanket?”

“You looked cold.”

“There are more fun ways to warm me up,” Tony says, nudging Steve with his knee. “If you’re interested.”

“I—yes?” Steve responds, an uncertain note in his voice.

“Wow, enthusiastic,” Tony says, slightly stung.

“Tony, that’s not what I—”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to—what are you doing?” Tony asks, his eyes widening as Steve fluidly slides onto the sand, kneeling in front of Tony, his hand running up Tony’s thigh. “Steve—”

“I told you,” Steve says as his fingers fiddle with the edge of Tony’s shorts. “That’s not what I meant.”

Tony shifts as he feels his cock reacting to the feel of Steve’s warm hands on his skin. “What, uh, what did you mean?”

“That I don’t want to push you,” Steve says, so quietly that Tony can barely hear the words over the waves in the background. “That I don’t want to rush this and have us regret moving too fast. That when I finally get you in a bed I want to take my time.”

“Jesus,” Tony says, swallowing. “Who taught you how to talk like that?”

“You bring it out in me,” Steve says, resting back on his heels, a soft smile crossing his face. “I know we’ve only just started this, and I know that you—”

“Have issues?”

“Sure,” Steve says mildly. “I know you’re not going to trust me immediately, we have too much history for that, but I’m gonna work on it.”

“That a promise?” Tony asks, leaning forward in his chair as he reaches down and threads his fingers through Steve’s hair, noting the way Steve closes his eyes at the touch.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice slightly hoarse. “I won’t break this one.”

And, fuck, that hits Tony in the chest. He trails his fingers down Steve’s beard, enjoying the surprisingly soft textures of it against his fingertips. “Stay tonight,” he says. “My bed is big if you’re worried about—”

“Okay,” Steve says as he opens his eyes, meeting Tony’s gaze.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

*

It’s been a long time since Tony’s woken up wrapped in another man’s arms and he lets himself enjoy the feel of Steve’s body up against him, the weight of his arm across Tony’s stomach. He doesn’t want to open his eyes, because if he does it means he has to actually wake up for real, and that means Steve will go on his run and Tony’s half baked plan for a lazy morning with him will be ruined.

But he also really needs to pee.

Grumbling under his breath, Tony slips out of Steve’s grip, which is easier than he thought it would be, and makes his way to the bathroom to take care of business. When he comes back, there’s a slight frown on Steve’s face and he’s dragged Tony’s pillow into his arms. Steve’s all sunkissed skin and hard muscle, his beard lighter than it was when he got here, and Tony just wants to get his mouth on every single inch of him.

Getting back in the bed, Tony realises he’s too awake to go back to sleep, and he sits up with his back against the headboard just staring at Steve sleeping in his bed so peacefully. He’s about to press his thumb against the frown lines between Steve’s eyebrows when his phone rings.

Morgan’s face flashes up on the screen and Tony darts a look at Steve before he answers, smiling when Morgan’s face appears. “Hey kiddo,” he says softly, resting his free hand against Steve’s hair, idly playing with it as Morgan greets him.

They don’t talk long, just enough for Morgan to make sure her dad is still around, and Tony to be reassured she’s okay without him for the moment, but it’s enough time for Steve to start to stir. Tony’s worried for a moment about how he’ll explain Steve’s presence to Morgan, but Steve doesn’t say a word, just shoves the pillow he was cuddling out of the way and scoots closer to Tony, draping an arm over Tony’s legs and resting his head against Tony’s hip.

It’s a reassuring weight, and Tony looks down to see Steve looking up at him with a content smile before Morgan grabs his attention. “What was that, little miss?” he asks, nodding as she tells him about the animals she’s met in Australia so far. He honestly just hopes she’s not going to come back wanting a venomous spider for a pet.

They say their goodbyes, and Tony drops the phone on the bedside table before turning his attention to Steve. “Morning,” he says, running his hand through Steve’s hair. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologise,” Steve says in a sleep roughed voice. “She okay?”

“Loving exploring Australia with her mom,” Tony says. “So, I guess so. I wanted them out of New York for a while until everything dies down.”

“You’re a good dad,” Steve says. “And a pretty good ex husband.”

“I’m trying,” Tony says with a sigh. “We’ll see if she rebels when she’s a teenager. But enough about my spawn, why aren’t you getting out of bed for a run?”

“Got you in bed,” Steve says sleepily. “Don’t need to run anymore.”

Tony frowns before it dawns on him what Steve’s saying. “Are you telling me you were running shirtless to get my attention?” Tony asks, feeling Steve freeze. “Steve?”

“Maybe after that first time,” Steve says eventually. “I mean, I like running on the beach, but—”

“You also liked knowing I was watching?”

“Yes,” Steve says, his voice muffled by the way he’s pushed his face against Tony’s hip. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Tony says. “I have a lot of things I would love to say, but—”

“What?” Steve asks.

“Kinda nice to hear that you wanted me,” Tony says. “Before you told me, anyway.”

“I did,” Steve says, one hand stroking Tony’s thigh through the sheet, sending shivers through Tony’s body. “I do. I don’t know how to make you realise that.”

“Last night you said you wanted me in a bed,” Tony says, raising an eyebrow when Steve looks up at him. “Looks like we’re in a bed.”

“Seems so,” Steve says. “Got any ideas?”

“You could move your hand up a bi— _fuck_ ,” Tony bites out as Steve runs a hand across his rapidly hardening cock through the sheets, the fabric sliding against his skin. “Okay, okay,” Tony says. “Can you do something while you’re down there?”

“That’s not very specific,” Steve says, tugging at the sheets until Tony’s cock is exposed. “There’s all kinds of things I could do.”

Tony groans at the feel of Steve’s hand on his cock, and he’s about to say something when Steve’s mouth is suddenly on him, pressing an open mouthed kiss against the base of his cock. His hand tightens in Steve’s hair involuntarily, and when Steve looks up at him, he nods. “Please,” he says in a hoarse voice, and the sweet smile that Steve offers him goes straight to his heart.

Steve’s mouth is so fucking warm, and Tony can’t even push up into it because Steve’s got his hand pressed against Tony’s hip, enough of a weight to keep him still. He’s completely at Steve’s mercy, and all Tony can do is go with it. The slick wet heat of Steve’s mouth is a goddamn revelation to Tony, and he almost wants to know how Steve got so damn good at sucking cock, but then Steve does something with his tongue and it’s all Tony can do to stop himself coming embarrassingly quickly.

It’s been a long time since Tony’s had anything other than his hand and his imagination to get himself off, and the reality of seeing Steve’s lips wrapped around his cock is just too much for Tony to take.

“Steve, I’m gonna—” Tony feels the familiar coiling in his gut as he tugs at Steve’s hair as a warning. Steve pulls off, but his hand keeps moving, and it’s like Tony’s orgasm is being dragged out of him by Steve’s clever fucking hand. When he finally comes, it’s like a punch to the gut as he spills all over Steve’s hand, his body shaking from the unexpected intensity of it.

Tony tries to catch his breath as he watches Steve wipe his hand on the sheets. “Good?” Steve asks, resting his chin on Tony’s thigh and looking up at him.

“I—” Tony laughs in disbelief. “Yeah,” he says, reaching down and running his hand over Steve’s hair, resting his palm on Steve’s neck. “That’s one word for it. Let me—I want to touch you.”

Steve lifts his head from Tony’s thigh and rolls onto his back, his cock tenting the sheets that are still wrapped around him, and Tony smiles at the sight.

“What?” Steve asks.

“You look like the best present,” Tony says, tugging at the sheets in an effort to reach Steve’s skin. “All wrapped up so prettily with sunkissed skin.”

“Tony—”

“Shhh,” Tony says, appreciating the light flush he can see on Steve’s skin. “Just let me enjoy it.”

Finally getting the sheets off Steve, Tony curls up against his side and reaches down, pressing a kiss against Steve’s neck as he holds the satisfying weight of Steve’s cock in his hand. “Now this is a gift,” he says, hiding his smile against Steve’s neck. “All for me.”

“Jesus, Tony,” Steve says, shifting onto his side, his hand coming to cup the back of Tony’s head. “Come here.”

Not wanting to let go of Steve’s cock, Tony tilts his head up just enough for Steve to catch his mouth in a soft kiss. Working Steve’s cock slowly, Tony tries to take his time, wanting to be able to explore every inch of Steve, wanting to learn all the ways to get Steve off.

The morning sunlight is slipping through the thin curtains, casting a golden glow over Steve’s skin, and Tony watches the rays play across Steve’s face as he reacts to what Tony’s doing to him. It’s quiet in the bedroom, the silence only broken by Steve’s low gasps and groans, and Tony would swear they’re goddamn best sounds he’s ever heard in his life.

“You’re gorgeous like this,” Tony says as he strokes Steve’s cock. “Squirming on the bed, so desperate to come.”

“ _Tony_.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tony says, leaning in and kissing Steve. It’s sloppy, Steve barely hanging onto what composure he has left, and Tony grazes his teeth against Steve’s bottom lip. “Come for me, sweetheart,” Tony whispers. “Do it.”

A strangled groan slips from Steve’s mouth as he comes, his mouth meeting Tony’s in an open mouthed kiss. Gently working Steve through the last of his orgasm, Tony rubs their noses together before letting go of Steve’s cock. “Do I need to ask if it was good?” Tony asks as Steve tangles their legs together, his hand sliding onto Tony’s hip and tugging him closer.

“Shut up,” Steve says, his eyes fluttering closed, eyelashes casting a shadow over his cheekbones in the early morning light. “You know it was.”

Tony lets out a soft chuckle as he slowly follows Steve back to sleep.

*

Tony’s not exactly a fan of waking up sticky and gross with come stuck to him in awkward places, but given that he also gets to wake up with Steve in his bed again, he’ll take it.

They shower quickly, even with Tony distracted by the sheer expanse of wet Steve skin in his face, and head downstairs to the kitchen where Tony switches on the coffee maker as Steve starts chopping fruit up for breakfast.

It’s easy, Tony realises, as he stands and sips at his coffee, watching Steve throw pineapple into a bowl, and he thinks he should be scared of that. It’s only been a few days and Steve’s slipped into his life like he’s always been there, like this is how they were always meant to be, and that’s—.

The last person he had this with was Pepper, and Tony doesn’t know how to feel about that considering how it ended.

“Here,” Steve says, holding out the bowl of fruit. “Eat.”

“Coffee.”

“Tony.”

“Pineapple doesn’t go with coffee, Steve,” Tony says, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not my fault.”

Steve laughs, lowering the bowl and leaning in, pressing a quick kiss against Tony’s mouth. “Later, then.”

“Now, if you want to eat the pineapple, I’ve heard that—” Tony grins against the kiss that cuts him off and wraps his free hand around Steve’s waist, pressing his fingers against his skin. Tony can feel the sun through the window hitting his skin, and the knowledge that they have another day ahead of them with nothing to do fills him with what feels like happiness.

“Hey,” Steve mutters against Tony’s mouth. “Beach today?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, leaning back a little to meet Steve’s eyes. “Sounds good.” Moving to put his coffee mug down, Tony takes the bowl from Steve’s hand and slips back into his arms. “But maybe not right now,” Tony says, smiling up at him.

“You just takin’ my breakfast away from me now?” Steve asks, raising his eyebrows as his messy hair flops over his forehead.

“Postponing it?” Tony suggests, pushing up on his bare toes to brush his lips over Steve’s curving mouth. “If you’re okay with that?”

“I think,” Steve says, reaching down and grabbing Tony’s ass, hauling him up until Tony’s legs are wrapped around his hips. “We should move this to the couch.”

And with that, it’s like Tony’s world is completely narrowed to only Steve. He feels like a damn teenager again, or what he assumes most teenagers feel like, his teenage years were spent in a fucked up haze he’d rather not remember but this—. It’s the hottest thing Tony’s experienced in a long goddamn time, even with the morning’s earlier activities fresh in his mind.

Steve’s fingers keep tracing patterns along Tony’s skin as he kisses him, teeth scraping down Tony’s neck in a way that has Tony letting out noises he didn’t know he could make. It’s intoxicating, dangerous in a way that Tony recognises could destroy them both, but he—he doesn’t think it will. He thinks it could’ve, before, if they’d tried this when they were younger, but now they’re older, slightly wiser, and all Tony can think is how much they deserve this. That maybe getting lost in each other is exactly what they’re supposed to be doing.

Of course, he could be thinking that because Steve’s fingers are rubbing softly against his hip and Steve’s mouth is working on a damn hickey on his neck, but Tony’s okay with being a little philosophical if it’s getting him this.

Steve’s bare leg rubs against his, and Tony shifts a little until he’s got Steve’s thigh up against his cock, the slight pressure taking the edge off what was becoming a situation. He can feel Steve’s cock resting against his own thigh and the kisses Steve’s giving him get a little sloppier, a little more desperate, and Tony’s okay with going wherever this is gonna take him.

It’s like a never ending pleasure cycle, and Tony sinks into it more with every kiss Steve gives him, with every scrape of Steve’s nails down his back, with every shift of their bodies against each other and Tony—Tony just _wants_.

*

At some point during their make out session, they must have fallen asleep because Tony wakes up half on top of Steve and half wedged against the back of the couch, his head underneath Steve’s chin with one hand tucked in the waistband of Steve’s shorts.

“Huh,” he mumbles against Steve’s skin. “Steve?”

“Wha?” Steve reponds sleepily. “Tony?”

“Apparently we’re too old to be making out on the couch,” Tony says, trying to find a way to get up without kneeing Steve in the groin but quickly giving up. “I can’t believe we fell asleep.”

Steve snorts, his hand lightly trailing down Tony’s spine. “Stress,” he says. “When you get rid of the stress you can sleep. I’m hungry, though.”

“Shocking,” Tony says, as Steve yawns and slides off the couch, holding one hand out to him. Tony takes it, letting Steve pull him to his feet, and goes with it when Steve pulls him closer, kissing him softly. “Mmm, okay, good way to wake up.”

“It’s not that late,” Steve says. “We could eat and go on a night walk on the beach later?”

“You do remember neither of us can cook, right?”

“You can cook.”

“Okay,” Tony says with a smile. “You can’t cook and I don’t want to. There’s stuff for sandwiches in the fridge, though, and there’s some bread I got from that lady down the street.”

“I’m pretty sure I can make sandwiches,” Steve says with a shrug.

“The fact you’re not sure about that worries me.”

“Shut up,” Steve says, a flush on his cheeks.

Tony pushes up on his tip toes and kisses him softly. “Just put pickles on mine and we’re good.”

*

“You’re crazy,” Tony says, staring at Steve who is standing in the water, moonlight playing over his skin, with his hand outstretched. “It’s dark, and I—”

“I’ll look after you,” Steve says. “The water’s calm and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Tony shifts on the sand and sighs, crossing his arms over his chest wondering why he can’t just stay on the beach by the fire making s’mores while Steve gets his nightswimming on. It’s a perfectly acceptable thing to be doing. “Steve, I—”

“We don’t have to go far out, and if you want to come back to shore, we’ll come back,” Steve says, dropping his hand and walking out of the water to Tony. “Hey?”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

“I—” Tony’s at a loss for a response and he sighs, dropping his arms to his sides. “That’s a hard question to answer.”

“Is it?” Steve asks. “I trusted you when we—”

“I know,” Tony blurts out. “I know,” he repeats, quietly. Taking a breath he looks at Steve standing there, waiting for an answer and the realisation hits him like a lightning bolt. “I do,” he says. “I trust you.”

The corners of Steve’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, and he takes Tony’s hand. “Then come with me?”

“Okay,” Tony sighs, tangling their fingers together. “But if a shark eats me, you’re explaining it to Morgan.”

The water’s cool against his legs as they walk in, and Tony knows he’s clinging to Steve’s hand, but Steve seems okay with it, so he’s not going to let go. It’s calm, like Steve promised, and Tony’s worries slowly dissipate with every step they take. Eventually they’ve walked so far in that the water’s up to Tony’s clavicle, and he tugs on Steve’s hand, getting him to stop.

“Far enough?” Steve asks softly.

“Yeah,” Tony says. “This is—this is good.”

Steve smiles and uses his other hand to pull him close, firmly resting on Tony’s waist. “Hi,” he says when they’re face to face. “Not as bad as you thought?”

“No,” Tony says, pushing off the seabed and letting himself float. “Not so bad.” He lets go of Steve’s hand and wraps his legs around Steve’s waist, trusting him to hold him up. “In fact,” he says. “I’m liking this more and more.”

“We’re not having sex in the sea.”

“Of course we’re not,” Tony says, hands gripping Steve’s shoulders. “Tried it once, not that great. But you could kiss me a little.”

“Oh really?”

“Uh huh,” Tony says, leaning in so close he could count the water drops clinging to Steve’s eyelashes. “Just a little.”

That’s the last thing he manages to get out before Steve’s kissing him under the moonlight. The heat of Steve’s mouth is a stark contrast with the coolness of the water surrounding them, and Tony tightens his legs around Steve’s waist, wishing he could get closer. Steve nips at his bottom lip as he breaks the kiss, and Tony rests his forehead against Steve’s, closing his eyes.

“You okay?” Steve asks, his hands resting against the small of Tony’s back. “We can go back in if you—”

“No,” Tony says, listening to the water around them and enjoying the feel of Steve holding him up like they’re in their own little world. “I’m good, here with you.”

*

Tony’s shivering by the time they make it out of the water and he doesn’t wait as Steve douses the fire, instead heading inside and jumping in the shower to warm up. He’s just finished washing himself when he hears a movement behind him and turns to see Steve joining him in the shower.

“Hi,” Tony says as Steve steps under the spray, the water flattening his hair against his head. “You staying here tonight?”

Steve pushes his hair back off his forehead and nods. “If that’s okay?”

“I’d be kicking you out if it weren’t,” Tony says. “Stay, Steve. Move your stuff over if you want.”

“Really?”

Tony reaches for the shower gel and squeezes some in his hands before reaching for Steve and lathering his body up. “Too fast? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“With the washing me or the asking me to move in?”

“Both?”

“Neither,” Steve says, covering Tony’s hands where they’re resting on his stomach. “You’re not making me uncomfortable, Tony.”

“Then turn around so I can get your back,” Tony says with a smile. He quickly washes Steve’s back, trying to hide a smile when he hears Steve let out a muffled groan at the pressure of Tony’s hands on his lower back. “Enjoying that?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re gonna move in?”

Steve turns around, letting the water rinse his skin clean. “You really want me to?”

“I do,” Tony says, ducking his head a little as the water runs over his hair. “It’s not like it’s a permanent thing, we don’t live here.”

“I know.”

Tony rinses the last of the suds off him before he looks at Steve. “So think of it as—”

“A holiday romance?” Steve asks as he steps out of the shower and grabs a towel, fastening it around his waist.

“What? No,” Tony says as he switches the water off before turning around. He looks at Steve, his eyes following the drops of water making their way down Steve’s chest. “I mean. Stop distracting me with your chest.”

“Tony.”

“It’s not a holiday romance,” Tony says as he steps out of the shower and takes the towel from Steve. “It’s not ending once we leave here.”

“It’s not like we’ve talked about it.”

“I didn’t know we had to,” Tony says, having wrapped the towel around himself. “Steve, I just—you’re the one who said you didn’t want to rush things.”

“So it’s my fault?”

“Why are you making this into a fight?” Tony asks, confused. “Steve, I thought we were on the same page here? I thought that—” he breaks off, his shoulders slumping. “I thought you knew that we wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t going to be serious.”

There’s a stricken look on Steve’s face and he turns on his heel, almost fleeing the bathroom, and Tony’s left standing there like an idiot. “What the fuck?” Tony mutters to himself as he follows the direction Steve’s headed in, only to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

Tony pauses for a moment before he joins Steve on the bed, tentatively resting a hand on his back. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Steve says, dragging his hand over his beard as he looks up. “No, Tony, you didn’t, I just—”

“What?”

“I don’t know what to do when we leave here.”

“About me?”

“No,” Steve says. “About _me_.”

And that wasn’t anywhere in the realm of what Tony expected. “Tell me,” he says. “Steve, let me help you. Is it—”

“I’m meant to be here figuring out what to do next,” Steve says. “But I don’t know what that is. I don’t know what I want.”

“Do you have to figure it out right now?”

Steve huffs out a laugh and looks at Tony. “I think at the very least I should figure out if I want to be Captain America anymore.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“I didn’t—you want to retire?”

Steve shrugs. “I don’t know. These last few years, it’s—I can see why other places were fearful of a man wearing the flag. I can understand that, and I don’t know if that’s who I am anymore. Don’t know if that’s who I want to be.”

“You want to give up the shield?”

“The shield’s mine,” Steve says with a soft smile. “But the rest of it? I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to be him if you don’t want,” Tony says, taking Steve’s hand and squeezing. “We saved the world again, I think that gives you permission to retire. Figure out what you want to do.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Haven’t thought about it,” Tony says. “I’ll have work for SI, and Morgan will need me, but other than that? I have no clue.”

“And you’re not scared by that?”

“Oh, I’m terrified,” Tony says. “But we could figure it out together, if you want. Sounds like we’re both as pathetic as each other right now, so—”

“Hey,” Steve says with a laugh. “We’re not pathetic.”

“Two potentially retired superheroes freaking out because they don’t know what to do next? It’s kind of sad, you gotta admit.”

“You know what’s not pathetic?”

“What?”

“How I feel about you.”

“ _Steve_.”

“Just saying.”

“You can’t just—” Tony cuts himself off and kisses Steve firmly before pulling back and meeting Steve’s eyes. “That’s cheating.”

“Really?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow. “Cheating.”

“Yep.”

Steve cups the side of Tony’s face and drags him in for a quick kiss. “Still cheating?” he asks, thumb stroking Tony’s cheekbone.

“Uh huh,” Tony says. “The worst kind of cheating.”

“I’ll try and remember that.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Move in with me, when we get back to normal life.”

“You think we have a normal life?”

“Missing the point,” Tony says. “Steve—”

“Yeah,” Steve says quietly. “Okay.”

“Okay you’ll move in with me?”

“Sure,” Steve says, a small smile on his face. “Two pathetic old men figuring out life together.”

Tony laughs as he leans in again. “Sounds good to me,” he says, just before his mouth meets Steve’s in a soft kiss, and somehow it feels like a promise for their future. Because now, they get to have a future. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> fic post on [twitter](https://twitter.com/starstarked/status/1298353878803648512?s=20), feel free to come hang.


End file.
